Losing Innocence
by sinflower.exe
Summary: Four steps to losing innocence.


He's just a small boy, blonde hair and blue eyes, nothing unique about that, except for the innocence glowing within those pretty, pretty eyes. He plays in the field, flowers in his hands, as he stares at the other children- they don't understand him very well, for he does not like his own parent much, and nor does he think Arthur is the smartest man in the world, and nor does he like to give false compliments to the other children as they give to each other. He'd rather be blunt, so they can fix themselves. He doesn't get why they avoid him- is he really that unlikable?

"Alfred? Why aren't you playing with the others?" A soft-toned, yet delicately fancy voice called out to him, as he looked up to see his caretaker. He knows this isn't his parent, but at the same time he doesn't have much proof. Matthew tells him he just thinks a little too much, and that's why he's confused- his thoughts are bundled up. But Alfred knows that Matthew's just as confused as he is, because this man- this lean, lean man, with green eyes as bright as jewels, but as dull as a dead leaf, with the meanest tongue, and silliest voice, is not the one who took care of him in his fondest memories.

"Oh, I don't feel that well, so I'm not going to play with them today," he lied. Simple and short. Not like how other boys his age would, blabbering and blabbering, filling their listener's ears with nothing but useless information.

"It's probably just a small stomachache. Come inside, I'll cook something up," with those words, Alfred tried not to gag. His cooking had the texture of a pig's skin, and the roughness of a rock. You could _murder_ somebody with those scones, if you could get them to eat it, despite the nasty smell.

Afterwards, Alfred couldn't get the guiltiness to get off of him. Sure, it paid off well, so Arthur wouldn't think Alfred was lonely, but it just made him feel _horrible,_ yet he still wanted to do it.

This is the first step to losing your innocence, _lying._

The small boy has now grown into a teenager, no longer the skinny arms and legs where you could see the bone, but with a bit of muscle now, though his cheeks still held a bit of fat in them. He's much taller, and he's became less of an introvert, and even a bit annoying, though he still had more friends than he needed- are they friends if he doesn't even _like_ them? But he's to gentle to tell that to their faces, so he'll keep it in, because he knows nobody will keep it a secret with him, as they talk too much.

He walks down the hallway, a small yawn escaping his throat, as he puts his backpack away, and grabs his necessary textbooks, closing the locker door to walk to his class, but only to jump back in surprise at the sight of an angry-looking guy, with dark hair, amber eyes, and the prettiest glare he's ever seen, if that existed. His shoulders looked strong, and everything about him just amazed Alfred.

"Hey, bastard!" He practically yelled- and _thank god,_ nobody was in the hallway with them. It was sort of awkward though, yelling at someone who was just a foot and a half in front of you, "Can you direct me to English?" This time he spoke in a softer tone, as if embarrassed.

"It's just down the hall, and the first door to the right." He pointed. The Italian left without so much as a word, and only a small huff. Thirty seconds later, he's gone.

Alfred's never felt so so horrible, but so so beautiful at the same time. The emotion was confusing for him- and he wasn't even sure if it _was_ an emotion, it was like anger, but without that frustration that seemed to hold your throat and chest, it was like sadness, without that pit in your stomach, it was like happiness, or excitement, but nothing to look forward to. It made his heart flutter, but at the same time leap with joy.

Maybe it will go away soon.

\- is what he thought, but it stayed, and still is there.

Now this is the second step to losing your innocence, _loving._

His 'father' wasn't a father at all, but more like his brother. His mother died once he was born, and so Arthur took the role of taking care of him, as his oldest brother, Francis, took care of Matthew. They argued so much, that they seperated once they both reached the age of eighteen, not even able to glance at each other without fuming, or insulting each other.

Wasn't it sort of useless to cry at his mother's funeral, if he didn't really know his mother at all? Oh, but here he is, on his knees, sobbing, with Matthew right next to him, and Francis standing next to Arthur, as they comforted each other, for the first time ever since they were little. It was only sprinkling a little, but it made it seem as if the whole world was crying with them, the sun not even able to be seen behind those stormy grey clouds. They were not the headstrong, stubborn, rude people they usually were, but instead was replaced with softness, and a fragile touch to them- as if any second, they won't be able to control their tears again, and cry for a _year._

There was a picture of his mother, with their father, they were sitting at a fountain, his mother dressed in a knee-length biege dress, long dark hair, and eyes that you couldn't really tell the color of, and the father was hugging her, blonde hair, and green eyes, a small stubble on his chin, long nose, and with a large amount of muscle. They looked almost perfect together, and for a second- they all thought of someone, someone just as special to them as Mama was to Papa.

This is the third step to losing your innocence, _crying._

Crying because the world's just too mean.

He's still bright, he's been through a lot since the past few years, but now he's much better. He's got his own place in New York, he's got a job, and a side one as an author, with two dogs. Arthur and Francis were finally able to get along, after they married other people, and Alfred doesn't really know where they are now, but he doesn't want to know. They were the type of people, that if you just had a small incident, you'd be able to break off from them easily, because they didn't actually mean that much to you.

Matthew married a Ukranian lady that he met in Canada, and Alfred?

He's not as interested in the idea of romance as he was before.

True love was a difficult thing to find. You can't tell if it's just a crush, or actual love at first, and when you do find out, it's too late, so he prefers to stay single, in case he makes a mistake, because he doesn't like hurting other people. He doesn't know if the person he loves will love him back, and he doesn't want to experience heartbreak in his life, because-

 _G_

Many gathered around, screeching as a young man was hit by a bus, and _god,_ was the sight hideous... The body was crushed, the arm especially, and that sickening crash that was heard when the wheels went over the legs didn't sound nice either, and the eyes were full of hatred, annoyance, and-

It's gone.

Now that's the last step to losing your innocence, which is simply dying.

Today, you won't find the short, smile-y little boy, blonde hair, skinny limbs, and bright blue eyes.

Today, you'll find a sad-looking picture rested in his brother's household, being held gently with wrinkly, but strong hands, as violet eyes gazed over the photograph gently, tears gathering up. But the brother will forget about it soon, once his wife tells him to hurry up because their daughter needs to get to school on time.

But in another day, maybe in Heaven, you'll see a small little boy with blonde hair, laughing and giggling with someone with amber eyes and dark hair, with a small curl on the side.

 **EDIT:**

so, if you couldn't tell, the mother was Native America (but modernized), and I don't know who the dad is, but ofc they need a dad.

The Italian guy that was introduced in the 'loving' step, was Romano, not North Italy. Romerica FTW.

Thanks for reading 3


End file.
